


You made them go away

by hpjk_addict



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-15 13:33:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8058289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpjk_addict/pseuds/hpjk_addict
Summary: Chapter 1: Tom seeks out Chakotay after he's been experiencing his old nightmares. Told from Chakotay's POV. Pre-slash.Chapter 2: Chakotay seeks out Tom after their arrangement becomes public knowledge. Told from Chakotay's POV. Pre-slash. Maybe.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've recently started watching "Star Trek: Voyager" for the first time and Chakotay/Tom Paris has become a thing. This is nothing more than a drabble at present. I'm using a well-worn trope here to get it out of my system. This is my first ST fic ever.

The door to my personal quarters slid open without my voice command. I wondered that I had not heard the chime. But then again, maybe there hadn’t been one. Very few people would dare or know how to override my privacy lock. Intrigued, I casually looked up from a report padd I’d been checking to find the very last person on this ship I expected or wanted to see outside my duties as First Officer standing on the doorstep.

“Mr. Paris,” I said, keeping my roar of annoyance to myself and my voice level. It worked. I sounded dispassionate. Bored even. I reminded myself that it was important to keep things professional on board a Federation starship. But I could not believe that the man had the gall to come to my room to pick up a fight. Wasn’t the bridge, the briefing room, the mess hall, and the holodeck enough? “Is there a problem, Lieutenant?”

“Chakotay…” he rasped.

I froze. That voice. I knew that voice well. It sent chills down my spine. I knew what it meant. I instantly sprang to my feet.

“Tom.” My own voice was no longer devoid of emotions. In the nanoseconds that had transpired it had changed to urgency and concern. For the moment my annoyance and aversion with him were forgotten. They had no place here and now.

Tom stumbled into my room. The sneer, the swagger, the defiance – they were all gone. In their place was horror and vulnerability I knew he would hate me for seeing the next day. It would not matter that it wasn’t I who had caused them. It would not matter that he was the one who had come to me, seeking comfort. I had witnessed it. That would be enough. Pain was twisting his handsome features. Fear, shock, and incomprehension were clouding his bright blue eyes.

“They’ve returned,” he gritted out. He sounded as though someone was methodically insinuating the edge of a bathlet between his ribs. He swallowed. Even that looked painful. “The nightmares. They’ve come back.”

I locked and secured the door, took him by the elbow and guided him to the sleeping area, where I deposited him on the bed. He didn’t resist. He was not in the state to do anything but curl into a ball of gangly human flesh and shake. He didn’t say another word. I lay down next to him and he instantly latched onto my side, burrowing his blond head, his forehead liberally sprinkled with sweat, in the crook of my neck. I wrapped my arms around him and held him like a child. I didn’t speak. There was no call for that. I knew what he needed and it was not my speaking skills.

It was an odd arrangement to say the least. If word got out it would certainly raise a lot of eyebrows and questions. But we didn’t speak of it. We didn’t even acknowledge it. Or each other, for that matter. I thought it was in the past. It had never occurred on Voyager before. I thought that whatever demons had plagued him had been put to rest at some point. I was wrong. Perhaps, he’d simply become better at hiding them. But then again, I’d been too furious to pay any particular attention to him or his mental state ever since I found out that the smug self-serving bastard had agreed to lead a Federation starship to hunt us down in the Badlands.

Now, as I lay there holding him in my arms, I went back over the events of the day, trying to figure out what could have triggered the return of nightmares. There had been no reports with his name attached to them. In truth, it could be anything. I thought that the mere mention of his father, Caldik Prime, slurs upon his personality, and reflections upon his reputation topped the list. Most likely it was something one of the Maquis had said. He still remained their favourite target for taunts and occasional fights and when things got a little too quiet… well…

It happened for the first time back when I hired him to fly for the Maquis. To say that their reception of him was rough would be an understatement. It was not my place to interfere. They greeted him the Maquis way. In part, to see what he was made of. In part, because he was everything they loathed and stood against. My interference would have made things much worse for him. However, I was there to pick up the pieces. I ended up with a bloody and very angry young man on my hands and it didn’t take me long to realize that most of that anger had nothing to do with the Maquis who’d decided to hand him his ass on a plate. In fact, he gave as good as he got and several of the Maquis bore ugly reminders of the altercation the next day. It didn’t dissuade them from ambushing him again, of course; it simply made them crave such an encounter even more. They were waiting for an excuse to spill his blood again and you could trust Paris and his smart mouth to give them one before long.

But that night, after he stopped fighting me and let me estimate and deal with the damage caused by the Maquis, he fell into pieces in my arms. He was barely conscious and practically incoherent but one had to be a thick-headed targ not to get the gist of his gurgling babble. I saw before my eyes a latticework of uncontrollable fury, deep-seated abuse, and heart-wrenching misery that had been torturing the young man for years. In the midst of spilling his guts, he fell asleep. However, before long his body was racked with nightmares so violent I could have sworn their magnitude was at least that of an average ionic storm. That’s when I held him.

Naturally, he did not react well to waking up in my bed or in my arms. I can't say I was surprised. It had been my intention to avoid the unpleasant scene but I had fallen asleep without realizing it. I woke up in the early hours of the morning to a loud and extremely detailed stream of expletives that filled the small space of my quarters. Paris leapt out of bed as though it was made of lava, gave me one horrified look, and vanished.

He was back in my room that very night. "You made them go away," he mumbled, not meeting my eye, and went straight for the bed. I followed. Just as before, I held his shaking form in my arms as I poured all my inner calm and serenity into him through my touch. Eventually, the nightmares stopped. However, once they did, I had another problem on my hands, because Paris decided that now that his nightmares were over, he wanted to put my bed to an entirely different use. I had no idea, of course, that my rejection of his advances would have such an impact on him. He was captured and arrested on his very first mission for the Maquis (I always believed that he'd done it on purpose) and when I saw him on Voyager, I knew that he'd led Starfleet after me in revenge. But I have been watching him for a while now and he doesn't appear to be the same angry young man who doesn't give a damn about anything or anyone. Perhaps, I have been mistaken about him. He seems to have changed somehow. Even though, I'm sure, he himself isn't aware of that yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chakotay seeks out Tom after their arrangement becomes public knowledge. Told from Chakotay's POV. Pre-slash. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part is heavily based on "State of Flux" (s1e10) and "Maneuvers" (s2e11). A certain number of lines and references are taken directly from these episodes.

It turns out that I was foolishly optimistic in my certainty that my arrangement with Paris was a well-hidden secret on board the Maquis ship. I should have known that someone was bound to notice Paris’s nighttime visits to my quarters. However, if they did, I expected them to be upfront with me about it. In fact, I expected them to confront me about it then and there rather than keep it to themselves until they chose an opportune moment to use it against me. I don’t think that it is unreasonable of me to say that I know them well enough to expect a certain pattern of behavior from them. I believe I know how most of them would act in such a situation. Anyone, it seems, except Seska. I still can’t wrap my mind around the fact that I’d been so wrong about her. Now the whole Voyager crew is convinced that Paris and I have been having a secret affair since the moment I hired him to fly for Maquis and that our enmity – or the appearance of it – was just for show.

Seska.

I take a deep breath as I attempt to find my equilibrium. But just thinking about her makes me lose my composure entirely. I’m a calm and peaceful person, but these days – whenever her name is mentioned – my blood begins to boil until I feel an unconquerable desire to put my hands around her neck and snap it. I stop myself right there, but it’s another close call. Will I ever reach the point when I find myself in a more forgiving frame of mind with her? I shake my head. No. I let her join the Maquis. I took her in my confidence. I even got intimately involved with her. The level of her cunning, deception and manipulation has shaken me to the core. The way she expertly pulled the rug from under my feet at least on two separate occasions is inconceivable I’d been completely taken in by her. Utterly blinded to her true nature. In other words, I was a self-complacent fool. And as hard as it is to find it within myself to forgive her, it is harder still to forgive myself.

I never thought I’d see Seska again after she’d beamed out onto the Kazon-Nistrim vessel – her new friends in the Delta Quadrant. Instead, I should have been on constant alert; prepared; expecting something of that nature to happen, knowing that she would want to supply them with more of our technology than a single food replicator. Hadn’t she told us herself that she wanted to build a base of power in this quadrant and change the balance of power with the help of Federation technology? Well, she certainly hadn’t been wasting any time and taught the Kazon-Nistrim very well. They successfully lured us into a trap by sending a beacon that was using a Federation signal – boosting high hopes in some members of the crew that Starfleet was looking for us – while Seska masterminded a precision raid that made us all look like first year Academy students as she anticipated our every move and counteracted our every maneuver.

The Kazon managed to bring our engines off-line, create an opening in the starboard shields and direct a smaller vessel right into it, while all our attempts to rotate the shields harmonics and prevent them from causing damage to our ship failed. Of course, at the time we had no idea what was really going on and how it was possible for the Kazon to know our access codes. No matter what we did, they were always a step ahead of us. They successfully made their way from Cargo bay two to Transporter room two and transported, taking one of our transporter modules with them, before Tuvok and his men had a chance to apprehend them. To add insult to injury, when the Captain asked Tuvok if he could lock onto the module and beam it back, he informed her that as soon as they had dematerialized, we had lost all transporter power.

The Captain did not look happy.

“Mister Chakotay, lock a tractor beam onto their ship,” she commanded without missing a beat. “They’re not leaving with that module.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“The Kazon are powering their warp engines, Captain,” reported Mr. Kim.

“Make it fast, Commander.”

“Engaging tractor beam. I’ve got them, Captain.”

“The Kazon ship is hailing us,” said Mr. Kim.

“Suddenly they want to talk,” muttered the Captain darkly. “On screen.”

It was First Maje Culluh of the Kazon-Nistrim.

“I remember you, Culluh,” said the Captain in bone-chilling disdain. “That transporter module you just stole was specifically designed for our ship. You’ll never be able to integrate it into your systems.”

Her words did not produce a desired effect. Culluh looked entirely too pleased with himself.

“I’ve had some help updating our technology since we last met,” he replied as his knobbly forehead twisted and his swarthy face spread into a smirk. He beckoned to someone beyond our line of vision.

A split second later I was on my feet – Seska, a self-satisfied smile curving her half-restored Cardassian features, appeared on the viewscreen at Culluh’s shoulder.

“Seska,” breathed out the Captain, sounding as shell-shocked as I felt.

“That’s right, Captain,” replied Seska smugly. “As you can see, I’m in the process of restoring my Cardassian physiology. Hello, Chakotay,” she added next in a husky half-whisper that held an unmistakable note of past intimacy.

“I should have known you were involved,” I bit out.

“Yes, you should have. Just like I knew you’d try to stop us with a tractor beam. You’ve always been so predictable.”

“Captain,” said Mr. Kim urgently, “their deflector shields are creating a feedback loop. It’s neutralizing the tractor emitter.”

I instantly resumed my seat and attempted to compensate – to no avail.

“Goodbye, Chakotay,” said Seska, still smiling. For some reason her smile sent a shiver of foreboding down my spine. I just knew that she hadn’t been through wreaking havoc. “Lovely to see you again,” she continued. “I could ask you if you miss having me around, but with Tommy-boy here to warm your bed, I’d say no.”

There was a loud intake of breath, no doubt coming from Mr. Kim. Paris stiffened and sat ramrod straight at his console; as though his back hadn’t been straight enough before. From the corner of my eye I could see the Captain’s face; she was wearing a momentarily startled expression as though she had been hit in the face with a disk during a game of velocity without having seen it coming. I could not see Tuvok’s face but I could just imagine his usual calm expression, one damn eyebrow raised, and slight, sardonic curve of his mouth.

“Great, Seska. Just great,” muttered Paris as he unfroze, snorted and shook his head. “Way to go.”

“Oh, did you think I didn’t know?” she asked mockingly, zooming in on my furious expression a second before the transmission was cut off.

The next moment Mr. Kim informed us that the Kazon ship had gone to warp. I can’t remember the silence on the bridge being this deafening. As I passed a hand across my face, I realized that it was shaking. That I was shaking with fury. I felt completely exposed and utterly humiliated in front of the whole Bridge crew. I knew that it wouldn’t take long before the whole ship knew.

*

I had no doubt that the Captain would not be pleased with my intention to go after Seska by myself but she left me no choice by making it personal. It was a challenge that I was not going to back down from. I knew that I had to act and that I had to act alone. In any case, that wasn’t something I was about to negotiate or even let the Captain in on until I was well on my way. I did send an automated message beacon as an attempt to explain my actions but I cherished little hope that the Captain would see it in the same light as I did. Captain Janeway can be extremely narrow-minded and unbending when it comes to Starfleet protocols and chain of command. Still, I had to try. In case I didn’t come back. If I did – well – I was prepared to do the necessary groveling in her ready room. So that was that. I had to deal with Seska and the Kazon, Captain Janeway, and, of course, Paris. Suffice it to say that it was not the best day of my life. The possibility of dying did not materially improve it.

*

Upon my return, recovery and a serious talk with the Captain, I found Paris quite elusive. Apparently, sensing my intention to talk, he became more than adept at avoiding me. I finally succeeded in catching up with him just as he was about to enter his quarters.

“Lieutenant, a moment,” I said in order to stop him from disappearing inside.

He stopped and heaved an irritated sigh – then looked at me with his customary smirk, his blue eyes mocking me.

“Fueling the rumours, Commander?” he asked, gazing up and down the hall and pointing at a few passing by crewmen who looked with great interest upon the little scene we were making. I cursed under my breath. Paris laughed. I found it more and more difficult to contain my irritation. His smug expression didn’t help matters.

“May I come in?” I asked, hating myself for having to beg for a chance to talk to him.

Paris spread his arms in mock welcome and cocked his head to the side.

“Be my guest, Commander,” he drawled and dived inside.

I followed.

“We need to talk,” I said as soon as the doors swished shut behind me.

Paris snorted.

“Look, Commander,” he said, staring brazenly at me, “I can only imagine how unpleasant it must be for you to be associated with me in such a way. But it’ll blow over soon enough. All you have to do is wait a little. I’m afraid there’s little else you can do. Denying it will only make them more convinced that it’s true.” He looked me up and down. “I don’t see what you’re so worked up about, anyway. In fact, I think that you should be grateful that I happened to be in the picture. Now everyone thinks that Seska did what she did out of revenge. Apparently, they’re saying that you dumped her for me.” He snorted. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned or something like that, right? So no one looks too closely at the fact that she had you eating out of her hand.”

I let his last remark slide past. Barely. What I really wanted to do at that moment was to punch him in the face. Maybe break his perfect nose. I briefly wondered if having a crooked nose would make him less cocky.

“I do not intend to do anything about the rumours flying around the ship,” I assured him as coldly as my voice would go. “However, I thought we might do something about the situation that brought them on.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Paris, don’t you think that we have to talk?” I insisted.

“Honestly?” He shrugged. “No.”

It was getting more and more difficult to contain my frustration in the face of his stony stubbornness.

“Paris, we can’t pretend that nothing has been going on.”

He crossed his arms on his chest in a defensive mode he so often employs.

“You’re right, Commander, we can’t,” he said in a flat voice. “After all, nothing has been going on.”

“Paris – ” I took a deep breath. “Tom – you can’t simply ignore the situation.”

“Why not? It wouldn’t be the first situation I’ve ignored. I’m pretty good at denying things.”

“I know you are. I – on the other hand – am not.”

“In that case, Commander, maybe I should teach you?” he suggested.

“That’s not the lesson I wish to learn.”

“Suit yourself.”

He yawned and stretched his arms above his head.

“If you don’t mind, Commander, I’d love to hit the sack – er – right about now.”

“Well, seeing as how this conversation is getting us nowhere, you might as well,” I replied, defeated.

He flashed another smirk.

“I’m glad we agree on that, Commander.”

I had already stepped outside when he suddenly asked –

“Why does it matter to you that we talk?”

I stopped and looked at him, wondering if he was serious or just fooling around. He appeared sincere enough, so I rubbed my forehead tiredly and replied: “I thought that considering the circumstances we should try and get to know each other better.”

“Why?”

“Why what, Paris?”

“Why would you suddenly decide that you want to get to know me better?” he asked forcefully, his blue eyes burning into mine.

“Do I need a reason?” I challenged him, unwilling just then to confess that I’d been questioning great many things; wondering that if I could have been so wrong about Seska, then maybe I had been wrong about him too.

He shrugged.

“You didn’t want to before. In fact, you made it perfectly clear. Remember?”

I groaned. Not that again!

“Paris, it was a long time ago. So much has changed since then.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Not really, Commander.” He shook his head as if to confirm his words. “You’re still not telling me what I want to hear.”

I watched helplessly as the doors to his quarters slid shut. I raked my hand through my hair and went to my own quarters, exhausted and defeated.

*

Nowadays the rumour has it that the coldness emanating from Paris these days is due to the fact that he didn’t take too well to the idea that Seska will be shortly carrying my child. Apparently, he is not happy. And who can blame him? The implication being that I hadn’t been as unconscious while she extracted my DNA as I led everyone to believe.


End file.
